


All The Pretty Boys

by pan_dora



Series: Justifiable [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alpha!Stiles, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steo, Supernatural Elements, Urban Legends, brett and lori are alive, canon divergence - post season 5b, justiafiable, justifiable series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_dora/pseuds/pan_dora
Summary: During a party, Lori and Liam played Bloody Mary with a group of other Juniors from their schools. Only a few hours later, one of the teenagers is found dead in front of the mirror of his bedroom. To make matter worse, his eyes are missing. Brett is furious and blames Liam for jeopardizing his little sister.Stiles promises to keep Lori save and get rid of their newest problem.





	1. Chapter 1

> "The spirit of arrogance most definitely makes you shine.
> 
> It paints a bright red traget on your own forehead." - Criss Jami

 

The sound Liam makes cannot be described without the adjective embarrassing or humiliating or both combined. It’s a high-pitched squeal that matches the hurried attempt to get as much distance between him and Brett as quickly as possible – but Brett is relentlessly hunting down his former arch-nemesis, now somewhat co-worker and doesn’t seem to stop until he has his hands around his throat. It is slightly disconcerting, to be quite true, but Brett isn’t going to kill him. So, there’s that. Liam's team members are too amused to step in; most of them are also somewhat afraid of Devenford Prep’s most vicious ex-lacrosse player.

Stiles sighs audibly, closing the bestiary. “What did he do?”

“I don’t know,” Mason answers very slowly, dropping his pen on the notepad on his lap. While Liam was training with the rest of the Cyclones – Corey is trying his hardest to become their newest goalie – Stiles taught Mason the most important things about a couple of supernatural creatures. Like a good little student – even if considerably overeager and with so many question it feels more like an interrogation than a tutoring – Mason made notes the whole time; although he originally had come here to be Corey’s moral support. With a sigh, Mason puts his pad on the bleachers beside him while watching as the young werewolf careens over the lacrosse field. “Should someone intervene?” Mason asks when Liam just barely slips through Brett’s fingers.

“He’s your best friend.”

“He’s your beta.”

Stiles groans. “ _Fine_.” Seriously. He’s not yet nineteen for long and he’s already feeling like he’s been a single dad for twenty years _at least_. With his luck, he’ll have grey hair before the age of 25 – especially if their lives continue to be one humungous clusterfuck after the other. In addition to that, he was still trying to get his body back on the solely human pathway he’s stumbled off when he saved Derek from drowning. He’s exhausted and still recovering from the concussion, which makes him occasionally feel dizzy and nauseous. Of course, his exhaustion and overall fatigue might be coming from said concussion. It’s only been a week since he’s been hit with a shovel by a bloody ghost. Melissa assured him that he was healing just fine. But it was fucking annoying anyway; especially the constant headache that has been following him around for multiple days. It’s gotten better but it hasn’t completely gone away as of yet.

Seriously. He needs at least two years on a secluded island to destress.

“Hey!” Stiles yells – which is not helping his poor head. “Break it off!”

Liam doesn’t stop. Instead he takes a sharp left and dashes towards him, Brett still on his heels. First, as he reached him, Liam slitters to a stop and hides behind him. Making another incredibly terrified noise, he grips Stiles’ shirt. It really says something that he thinks Stiles would have the smallest chance against Brett. His void wouldn’t wake up because of teenage trouble and Stiles is far too tired to bother with self-inflicted drama. Because Liam does know exactly what he did to anger the former Devenford Prep student.

“You-“ Brett seethes trying to step around Stiles, who seems to be nothing more than a wall to hide behind. Liam, ungallantly, turns him to the left in order to keep maximum protection. “I _told_ you to-“ He snarls as Liam ducks out of sight again. Of course, it doesn’t really impair his ability to hear whatever Brett wants to tell him but obviously he wants to look in Liam’s terrified face while yelling at him. Which is understandable. It gives you a sense of satisfaction.

Stiles massages his temple. “What did he do?”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“I wish,” Stiles replies wearily, “I wish. Unfortunately, he’s my beta. I’d like to know what he did so I can punish him accordingly.”

That statement seems to get Brett’s attention. He stops trying to snatch Liam out of hiding and crosses his arms instead. “One of the Juniors threw this party last night.” Stiles has heard about it. The party went down inside the warehouse of a deserted factory not too far away from the loft. Stiles had been there himself when he’d been ten or so. It was incredibly interesting because nobody is allowed to enter the grounds and it’s supposedly haunted. After acknowledging the fact that ghosts are very real, Liam had a tremendously hard time to convince Mason. Purportedly, the owner had killed his wife to assure that their child would stay with him after their divorce. Chances had been terrible because he had had reports of abuse filed on him. The kid, upon seeing the body had run away while his mother’s ghost still haunted the place in search of her child. Stiles knows the wife’s body had never been found and the police thinks, she had taken her child and vanished from Beacon Hills. Others say the body couldn’t be found because her husband had cemented her in the ground. Every town needed their sketchy story.

“I told _him_ -“ Brett points at Liam, who dared to venture out of his hiding spot behind Stiles- “to keep an eye on my sister.”

“I _was_!” Liam pipes up but ducks down only a few seconds later.

Brett glares at him. “Turns out he was too busy trying to get into some random girl’s pants.”

“It’s the full moon-“

“You can’t blame everything on the full moon, Liam,” Stiles scolds – the words result in excessive pouting from the youngest member of their pack. Seriously, he didn’t really think that Stiles would let him get away with the full moon excuse every time? He knows it’s still stressful for him but the full moon was three days prior to the party; Liam isn’t _that_ vulnerable to his influence anymore.

“Lori joined a small group of people who thought it would be a good idea to play ‘Bloody Mary’ in the bathroom of an allegedly haunted factory – and now the body of one of them was found in front of a mirror,” Brett snarls making another step towards Liam and Stiles; yeah. Okay, angry, the guy is positively frightening. Stiles accepts that as a fact. But that revelation has to be put on hold because there are more important things that have to be discussed right the fuck now.

Stiles turns around. “Did you play it?”

Liam shrinks in his stance.

“Of _course_ , he played it,” Brett says shoving the other werewolf now that Stiles didn’t serve as protection anymore. “He was the one who told Lori that ‘it’s just a game’.”

“Are you _insane_?” Stiles snaps yanking Liam closer by the collar of his lacrosse jersey. They can be lucky Coach isn’t around during the impromptu trainings session on a Sunday. Otherwise Brett and Stiles would have been yelled at so loud and excessively, their ears would still be ringing in a week. “I will-“ There are a lot of things he thinks about doing to Liam. “How could you be so _stupid_?”

Liam raises both hands but doesn’t struggle to free himself Stiles. “It’s just a game that little girls play on a sleepover.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Stiles hisses his fingers curling tightly into the fabric. If it were worth the additional pain in his hand, he would smack this stupid idiot upside down the head. Perhaps that would encourage proper thought processes. But instead he yanks him around marching off the field. “A week ago, we found out that the legend of La Llorona is true-“ Stiles gives him a narrow eyed look. Liam pulls his shoulders up and stares down at his feet the whole time. “How can you be so irresponsible?”

Mason joins them, the bestiary and notepad in his arms. Brett follows them as well.

“I’m sorry-“

“ _Fuck_ sorry,” Brett spits, “If something happens to my sister-“

“It’s not my fault Lori-“

“You said you keep an eye on her!” Brett shoves the smaller werewolf again, who stumbles forward but doesn’t fall. Stiles doesn’t let go of him either. Instead he yanks him upright, barely containing his frustration. Why aren’t people ever listening to him? Seriously. He isn’t joking when he tells everyone not to be fucking casual about things like that. It’s fucking sketchy and they have no bloody clue what’s real – and the fact that the legend of Bloody Mary is all over the world for decades now doesn’t exactly lessen the credibility of this story. Especially if you put it on top the shit they have been through already.

Stiles points in the direction of the car. “Get in,” he snaps glancing at Mason, “Both of you.” After all, Mason and Corey have been at the party as well. Without any questions, the two friends slip into Theo’s car – the backseat, to be specific, probably to bring as much distance as possible between them and him – and Stiles pulls the keys out of the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll clear that up,” he assures Brett, who continues to look furious and ready to rip Liam a new one, “and if that death has something to do with the game, I will get rid of the problem.”

Brett runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t blame you.”

“I know but he is still my beta.”

 

“Sit down.”

Liam hurries into the loft, head still hung low and shoulders pulled high. He’s aware that he’s done some stupid fucking shit and feels bad about it – which is the only thing he can do in this current point in time. Brett is seething and Stiles is right there with him. The silence in the car didn’t help him to calm down. He is _livid_. Protecting the town is all they’ve ever done since Scott had been bitten, they put their lives on the line when someone from another city asks for their help and then his very own beta goes around putting other people’s lives on the line _just_ to impress a girl he’s having a hard on for.

“Stiles-“

“ _Shut up_.”

Mason flinches and follows his best friend immediately. Perhaps he wasn’t involved at all, perhaps he wasn’t playing the game but, dear god, he was there with Liam, so he was in the know about what his idiot best friend planned on doing – and he didn’t do anything to stop it. All of them should be way smarter than that. All of them should keep people from being stupid fucking idiots instead of rolling along with it to impress a girl they want to fuck. This is what makes him unreasonably angry.

Theo, who has been doing work for home schooling, glances up with raised brows. “What happened?”

“Do your homework,” Stiles says getting his phone out of the pocket of his jeans.

Theo closes the laptop with a frown. So much for his studying. “Don’t wreak your I’ll humour on me.” With a sigh, he gets up from where he sat and crosses the room. “ _What_ happened?”

Stiles rubs a hand over his face. Right. Mood control. That is still something he needed to get better at. Just because one of his betas fucked up doesn’t mean he is allowed to be pissed at all of them. “I have to call my dad,” he says with a sigh pointing at Liam and Mason, “Let them explain.”

He hops onto one of the counters in the kitchenette, rubbing his forehead. This is bad. If there really is something running around in Beacon Hills, he will have to inform Scott – and they haven’t parted on the best of terms. At all. They are done. They are over with, only connected by the shreds of their past and the wish to protect the town. It wasn’t enough to bring them back together, and honestly, Stiles isn’t too bothered by it. Of course, it saddens him to some account. They were family, after all. But not being worried about every decision he takes, being able to end a threat instead of hoping it never comes back after being nice to it – that’s a huge relief. In addition, Stiles doubts it would help Theo’s recovery in any form. He feels content in this pack of people, who have build a certain degree of trust. Surprisingly, Isaac is the one most wary of the newcomer; only knowing about the things Theo's done through slimmed down stories and all layered with the excuse of being exposed to the Dread Doctors since he was nine years old. Stiles keeps reminding the others that this cannot serve as an excuse for everything and Isaac has made it his personal mission to reprimand the chimera whenever he says or does something stupid.

With a sigh, Stiles calls his father. It doesn’t take long until the dial time is replaced by a stressed sounding _Kiddo_.

“Hey dad,” Stiles says glancing at the small group of people. Theo has his eyebrows raised so high they almost vanish under the fringe he hasn't styled after showering. Stiles likes the laidback look. It makes him look more boyish and less like the damaged grown-up he actually is. Liam is tugging at his lacrosse shirt while talking to his legs. Mason has put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, then and again adding something to the story being told.

His father sighs. “Please, don’t tell me your calling because of the dead Junior.”

“Depends,” Stiles says watching as Liam gathers more courage after something Theo said. He is now telling the story with more gestures than strictly necessary, “If that kid died yesterday due to unknown circumstances, then yes, I’m calling because of that kid.”

“He died because of a heart attack,” John replies and Stiles can feel relief tickle down his back. That’s nothing supernatural. That’s a tragedy but it _can_ happen, even if it is exceptionally rare. His beta hasn’t manoeuvred himself and Lori into danger while playing a stupid game. “ _But_ -“ Stiles tenses. Liam stops in his explanation and he and Theo turn around to look at him. “He is missing his eyes.”

“His eyes?”

“His eyes.”

Stiles looks over at Liam, who pales visibly. “Post mortem?”

“No,” John answers even if reluctantly, “he was alive while his eyes were pulled out of his sockets.” Of course, he was. First hearts. Now eyes. Stiles can’t decide if it gets better or worse. Both is disgusting, that much he knows.

Mason shoots his best friend a very concerned look as Liam makes a dreadful sound. Chances are high, the people involved are possible targets. But it’s his own goddamn fault. This fucking idiot.

“What is it with supernatural creatures ripping out other people’s-“ Stiles gestures wildly – “ _Everything_? We’re no organ donors.”

Theo chuckles. Mason shakes head. Isaac would have the time of his life listing all the things that were wrong with Theo’s reaction. But the guy was currently with his brother. It’s a tradition. The two of them meet up every Sunday for either breakfast, lunch or supper in order to catch up on the week – it depends when Jordan has to work. They see each far more than once a week, since the two of them are still living together but with Isaac working at the restaurant downtown and Jordan being the deputy that he is, their time together is limited.

“How do you even know about him?” John asks sounding not as surprised as the situation would normally demand. Most likely because his father thinks Stiles still listens to the police radio. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t. Something that needs to be made abundantly clear.

“Liam, Brett’s sister and a couple more Juniors might have brought Bloody Mary into town.”

“I guess you’re not talking about Henry VIII’s daughter.”

“I wish,” Stiles mutters running his fingers through his hair, “I’ll call you when I know more.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.” With a sigh, Stiles drops his phone one the counter beside him. The thing is, he really wants to be pissed at Liam for being so irresponsible. But it’s not like he is _actually_ at fault for bringing her here. The teenagers would’ve played it either way; they probably would have thought it funny that one of them was trying to convince them to stop. Understandably. Stiles wasn’t that different before every nightmare turned out to be true. So, he doesn’t really blame him for not stopping them. But anything else was simply frustrating.

“Why did you play?” He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand at all. After everything they have been through, it’s hard to believe Liam is this reckless just because of a girl. It’s stupid. What of Bloody Mary would have attacked _everyone_ there? He would have put Mason in danger, too. This whole thing could become a catastrophe of preposterous extent.

Theo smirks. “The penis can be a strong influence.”

“Theo,” Stiles warns.

“What? It’s true.” He turns to Liam, grinning down at the pale wolf. “Did you at least get laid?”

“ _Theo_.”

“No,” Liam replies; voice an odd mixture of distress and annoyance. Stiles isn’t quite sure _what_ could possible piss him off in his current situation. “She was more interested in ‘that British guy you hang out with’ and now I’m dying because of her.”

Mason pats his shoulder.

Stiles covers his face with his hands.

 

“Oh, this is disgusting.” Isaac pulls his scarf over his nose.

Brett pulls a face flicking his torch around. Although they are helping different cities with their supernatural problems now, the police can hardly allow a group of nineteen-year-olds to snoop around on a ground that has big fat ‘No Trespassing’ signs all over the compound. Which meant they have to do it at night which doesn’t only make the whole place ten times creepier but also harder to see. The only good thing is that Stiles obviously can’t smell what his three supernatural companions can. Which he isn’t exactly sad about because their disgusted faces are telling them everything he needs to know.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Isaac says and his voice echoes quietly in the enormous empty warehouse, “the stench of human fluids-“

“Call the spade a spade,” Theo interrupts, “It’s fucking semen.”

Stiles pulls a face letting the beam of his torch glide of the walls covered in graffiti. This information doesn’t help his nausea even the slightest bit. He knows it reeks. He finds the stench everything but amazing. But he has been happy he didn’t know _what_ exactly he was currently smelling.

“Or,” Isaac continues as if he hasn’t been interrupted at all, “the stale beverages.”

“I’m more disgusted at the half-empty drinks,” Theo concludes. He points his torch to the ground. The floor is covered in litter, cups with and without contents, abandoned snacks and even more graffiti. It’s really no surprise teenagers have been caught here if they are stupid enough to leave evidence all over the place. Do they want the police to know that this is a place where they meet up? Although Stiles isn’t quite sure why this place is part Lover’s Lane part underground party. It’s neither secure nor is it hidden. Stiles wouldn’t have sex here if it were the last place on earth. Not only is it fucking disgusting, it’s also uncomfortable as hell and not exactly safe. The ground, wall _and_ ceiling are covered in holes and fissures. The cement is crunching underneath Stiles’ feet – and he is on the ground floor. He doesn’t want to know how the floor holds up on the other levels. His doubts are proven correct as he spots parts of the wall and the ceilings lying on the ground.

Brett flicks his torch upwards, revealing the heavily damaged ceiling even further. “Maybe they are half full?”

“Nobody cares about your philosophical spiel,” Theo replies crossly. Although he has gotten a little better about controlling his haphazard jealous ticks since their last case, he still doesn’t bother to be nice to someone he sees as a threat. Isaac and he are still bickering all the goddamn time because of something Isaac had said what feels like bajillion years ago. Brett, at least, takes the hostility with humour and doesn’t answer in the same manner. That might be because Brett is one of those people who ran out of fucks to give what people say about or do to him – mostly because he’s been in the public eye for a couple of years now.

As if to proof Stiles’ thoughts, Brett smirks. “You’re saying I shouldn’t make my major in Philosophy?” He sighs, following Isaac further deeper into the warehouse. “Damn.” The beam of his torch illuminates a staircase leading up. “Maybe Literature then.”

Stiles has never tried so hard to keep a straight face before than he does right now.

“I swear,” Theo warns quietly without stopping to inspect the disaster on the floor, “if you’re laughing-”

“I’m not laughing,” Stiles says although his treacherous voice couldn’t keep the amused undertone away – especially not as Isaac outright high-fives Brett. The two of them are going to be a tremendous pain in Theo’s ass. But perhaps that’s a good thing. The guy needs someone aside from Stiles who pushes back when he acts out. It makes the whole balancing act between alpha and boyfriend a lot easier. “Come on,” he says tugging slightly at Theo’s hand, “Let’s check upstairs.”

Brett and Isaac simultaneously point down the hallway, signalling that they keep on checking the downstairs area. Although Liam said the bathroom, in which they have played the game, is somewhere upstairs, the four of them decided to survey the whole compound. Maybe there is something important here. Maybe Bloody Mary _lives_ here. The lore is mildly sketchy on the whole thing. Some say she can only come to the mirror in front of which she had died. Then it is said that she can be called to every mirror because her soul was sucked into some sort of mirror world. It’s an urban legend. There are thousands of variations. Stiles read somewhere that her spirit possesses the human calling her. Sometimes she kills. Other times she only scares the shit out of people. She slits throats, makes people explode- seriously. Everything is covered.

Theo walks up the stairs in front of him. Although they, too, are made out of cement, they don’t feel particularly secure underneath his feet. The deep fissures don’t exactly help to get rid of the worry – and it doesn’t get better as they reach the upstairs. The floor looks worn thin. “Walk on the beams,” Stiles tells Theo stopping him before he could step on the floor. From various expeditions during his childhood, he can speak from experience when he says that it fucking hurts when the floor suddenly gives way underneath you and you drop a storey with debris. He’d broken his leg once. His father had been furious with him.

“I know.” Stiles doubts he does but decides not to say anything.  

“Over there.” Theo nods in the direction of an unhinged door. His torch’s beam illuminates the typical sign of a female bathroom.

Stiles nods. “Let’s go.”

The stench in the bathroom is disgusting enough that Stiles nausea gets to a point where he can barely stop himself from retching. It reeks like something has died in here forever ago and is now continuing to do so. “Oh my god.” He covers his nose with his hand. Theo simply scrunches up his face. Stiles is unsure whether to be impressed or worried about the almost unaffected behaviour. Then again, he doubts it smelled good in the Dread Doctors’ lab with how careless and disinterested they were when it came down to dead bodies. Stiles wouldn’t even be surprised if Theo had to clean up after some at one point in time.

“Candles.” Theo points his torch on the third sink from the right. Four black candles are positioned on it. Two to the left and two of the right of the water faucet. It seems to be one of the two still intact ones. The other five are completely damages, either ripped out of the wall and smashed in little pieces. The bathroom stalls don’t exactly look better. In fact, it appears someone has smashed the wood until it broke into pieces and broke down. Now the stalls are covering the toilets instead of protecting the occupants form view. Well, at least they don’t have to check if someone or something is hiding in them. He has played enough horror games and watched more than a few movies of the same genre to know that doing that always ends in blood and gore.

Stiles moves tiptoes around Theo to get a better look at the candles. “That’s odd.”

“What?”

Stiles points his torch directly at the mirror – nothing odd can be seen, unless one counts the giant crack in its middle as something out of the ordinary – then down to the candles again. “If you believe in the spiritual and magical power of melting wax, you would burn black ones to help get rid of negative energy _or_ when you want to banish something.” The colour of the candles might not have meant anything to the person buying them – aside from helping to create a creepy and ominous atmosphere. But if it’s true and the colour of the candle actually does have a magical effect while burning, then the ritual shouldn’t have had any effect at all.

“So,” Theo says slowly, “that means that-“ He trails off as it becomes obvious he has no idea what exactly he is supposed to make out of this information.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “If you were thinking _any_ slower, your brain would evolve backwards.”

“I’m so sorry I’m not a sponge absorbing every and all I have read somewhere so I could become a walking and talking encyclopaedia of supernatural craziness,” Theo retorts slapping his ass.

Stiles glowers at him for a moment. _How rude_. Then he shakes his head. After all, he’s got a point. “Assuming that this is true, Bloody Mary shouldn’t have come through,” Stiles replies taking one of the candles for closer inspection, “They banish everything negative. One is supposed to be enough to keep away evil spirits during Ouija Board sessions. How powerful would you think four would be then?” He points at the sink again, then turns the candle to check its bottom. No price tags. He hoped to find a clue where these candles had been bought. Maybe the shop assistant could’ve told them who he had sold them to. They should ask Liam if he remembers who set the candles up in the first place.

A roar interrupts his thinking. Stiles shoves the candle into his backpack before dashing out the door – now ignoring his own safety instructions. Theo jumps the railing to be downstairs before Stiles could be, then basically tackles him as something or someone careens in their directions. They slide over the floor, shards of glass and broken floor cutting into and tugging at their clothes while the beverages drenches them in the horrific smell of stale alcohol and energy drinks. It’s fucking disgusting.

“Stiles!”

Brett and Isaac slitter to a stop beside them, wide-eyed and completely confused.

“What the hell _was_ that?” Isaac asks looking up the stairs but whatever that thing is has already vanished.

Theo sits up. “I’m pretty sure it’s a ghost.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” Stiles takes Brett’s offered hand who pulls him up with ease.

“Really?” Theo jumps to his feet immediately crossing the distance to check if Stiles was hurt in any way. Luckily, the shards didn’t seem to have cut him anywhere. He doesn’t want to think about what diseases he could potentially get. “How do _you_ know that?” His hand comes to a rest at Stiles’ neck; the tiniest smile curling around his lips. He seems more relieved about the fact that nothing happened to him instead of being infuriated with his smart-arse of a boyfriend.

Stiles plucks a shard of glass out of Theo’s leather jacket. “Because ghosts don’t usually bleed.”  

 

“Wait, wait, wait, _wait_ ,” Liam utters pushing himself away from the mirror, “You told me to stay away from these things and now you brought the one to the loft through which that ghost had been called?” Well, if he puts it like that, the whole thing really sounds like an incredible stupid idea. But it is worth a shot anyway. Also, it is most likely better if they keep the mirror somewhere they are able to keep an eye on it – and secure everything. Whatever that thing is, it will not be able to cross a barrier made out of mountain ash and salt. Also, just as a precaution, Stiles bought another four black candles from a whimsical shop with a guy who was undoubtedly high as fuck. They are currently burning in their glasses, save and sound.

Isaac points at the mirror. “That thing wasn’t a ghost.”  

“But it smelled rotten as hell.” Brett is still enormously aggressive towards Liam. To make sure he doesn’t suddenly murder the beta, Stiles has them separated with a thin line of mountain ash. He understands his anger; he really does but he doesn’t have the nerve to deal with the two of them on top of whatever their current problem of the week is.

“Yeah,” Theo agrees as he enteres the room, now as well showered and cleared of the disgusting shit that has covered the two of them, “But it still had a heartbeat.”

“So, it’s undead?” Mason asks who hasn’t left his best friend’s side all day.

“We’ll figure it out,” Stiles says, “For now you will be staying with Isaac and Jordan. Isaac-“

The werewolf nods. “No, mirrors, don’t let him out of your sight. I know, Stiles. I know.”

“Not to be rude or anything,” Liam mumbles so quiet his words are almost inaudible, “but I’d feel saver with Lydia around.” But Lydia isn’t here right now. In order to give Stiles and Theo some well-deserved privacy – her words, not his – and to destress from the shit that had been thrown at them, Kira and Lydia have booked a flight to London; Danny invited them. That, at least, is the official version. Stiles was one-hundred percent sure it wasn’t Danny’s idea but he didn’t push Lydia to tell him the truth. Maybe she wants to see what’s there before she could talk about it. It hasn’t been any different with his own emotional turmoil regarding Theo. If she is ready to talk, she will come to him.

“It’s not a fucking ghost!” Brett snaps from where he sits on the counter. This seems to become his own personal seating accommodation. At least as long as they continue to live here, which, hopefully, won’t be too long anymore.

Stiles ignores him. “Isaac.”

“Yeah,” Isaac hops from the table clapping his hand, “Come on, little sheep, time to go to sleep.”

Liam frowns while Mason is cackling. His pack consists of nutjobs. Every single one of them is crazy. That is something Stiles can hardly deny any longer. “You’re not the big bad wolf,” he remarks with a raised brow.

Theo curls his arms around his waist and props his head onto Stiles’ shoulder. He smells like the stupidly expensive soap Liam is obsessed with. Not that he doesn’t like it because he sure does a lot. It is one of these peculiar scents, one that causes a reaction. This, especially, reminds him of the clearing in a forest. The extravagant mixture of freedom and safety – both things he connects with Theo for quite some time now.

“I could be,” Isaac sniffs.

“ _Sure_ ,” Theo drawls.

Isaac flips him the bird before turning to Brett with a raised brow. They will be friends. One day. Stiles is sure of it. Isaac always needs a bit of time to come around and Theo doesn’t make it easy to like him. It takes a lot of work and determination and open-mindedness.

“No mirrors equals safety.” Brett gets to his feet.

Stiles nods. He probably would offer him more help and reassurance if it weren’t for his poor head. It’s the middle of the night and all he wants is to sleep or at least lay down for a little while. “Yeah. If this is Bloody Mary or some weird version of her then she needs a mirror to travel.”

“Okay.” Brett nods. “See you tomorrow?”

Stiles nods again. Theo waves them goodbye but he can feel the smirk pressing into his shoulder. The guy couldn’t be happier about them finally leaving. It’s their first night being alone at the loft - like, really alone – and Stiles feels already terrible that the only thing on his mind is sleep and rest and even more sleep. He imagined the evening would be a little different. Nothing too exciting because of his concussion but just them, some dinner, a movie maybe; like an actual date because that is something the two of them are planning for a while now and have never gotten around to do it. He probably would haven been ready for any version of the good old Netflix and chill – but right now, that’s most likely _exactly_ what’s going to happen. As soon as Stiles’ head will hit the pillow, he’ll be fast asleep.

Theo drops onto the bed. With a smile, he pulls Stiles closer by his hips. “How are you?” He pushes his hands underneath his shirt, warm fingertips pressing against the skin just above his waistband.

“I’m tired,” Stiles replies running his fingers through the wet strands.

Theo presses his mouth to Stiles’ stomach. “And?” Although the fabric of his shirt seperate Theo's lips from his skin, it feels really nice. He shudders involuntarily; his grip tightening in the short hair. It’s longer than it used to be. Stiles isn’t quite sure he knows if he likes it better this or the other way.

“I’ve got a headache.”

“And?”

“I feel nauseous.”

Theo gets to his feet again. His fingers trail up Stiles’ sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Stiles closes his eyes trying to concentrate on nothing but soft finger tips. He loves how different Theo is when they are alone, how gentle and contrasting to his usual abrasive character. He feels a thumb brushing over his bottom lip, soft lips follow. It’s barely what can count as a kiss but more their mouths sliding against each other. A moment later, Stiles can feel Theo cupping his cheeks.

“Don’t-“

But Theo ignores him, deepening the kiss and pulling Stiles even closer. It works, at first, there is nothing else than the feeling of lips on lips and Theo and the faint reminder of want worming its way into the giddy happiness whenever the two of them manage to kiss or cuddle or be intimate in any kind of way without anybody watching them. They haven’t had sex since that one time on the balcony; something that bothers Stiles a lot. When this is over, they are so going to have that date – even if it is the most cliché date to ever cliché.

The distraction only lasts a few seconds. Stiles can already feel his thoughts getting hazy and his legs oddly wobbly.

“I hate when you do that,” he breathes into the kiss.

Theo’s lips curl into a smirk. “Stop bitching when I take your pain.”

Stiles groans quietly. He hates supernatural mojo with a passion. It always makes him feel lightheaded and dizzy; it’s like someone drugged him with something that drapes cotton all over his senses. “It’s disgusting.” Even if lasts only for a couple of minutes.

“Go to bed, Stiles.” He does, clumsily. Theo has to help him lie down; otherwise he would have fallen face first into the pillows and, with his luck, hurt himself. Another reason why he hates this pain draining ability. His body feels like Lockhart just tried healing every single of the 206 bones he has. “Do you mind if I watch a movie or something?” Theo asks slipping under the covers behind him.

Stiles shakes his head. “Don’t care,” he mutters smiling as Theo hugs him from behind, “as long as you’re still here in the morning.”

Theo chuckles. “I love talking to you when you’re like that.”

“Shut up.”


	2. Chapter 2

“We need a bigger couch,” Stiles decides as he drapes himself over Theo who grunts a response. It’s still early in the morning. It’s a miracle he has dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs in the first place; especially dressed and ready for the day. “At the very least when Liam and Mason are moving in with us.” Because that’s still a thing, for whatever reason. The two of them, as well as Corey, have decided to go to the community college short of an hour away. They already talked to their parents, who accepted their decision – which took Stiles completely by surprise – and aren’t swayed by anything. It doesn’t exactly help that Isaac and Theo both decided to follow in Kira, Stiles and Lydia’s footsteps and will attend the program of a distance university after Theo has graduated. “I want one with this long thingy.” Another grunt follows his detailed explanation. “The one where you sit but can stretch your legs.”

“Recamier,” Theo mutters.

Stiles grins down on him. “You’re so smart.”

Another grunt.

“Why are you even awake?” Stiles asks. Theo draws his eyebrows in, loosely wrapping his arms around him. Okay. Maybe awake is a little exaggerated right now. The guy seems more asleep than anything else. Perhaps he thinks he is sleepwalking. “You should’ve stayed in bed.” As Stiles checked his phone sometime tonight, it was half past three and Theo told him to sleep – although he himself sounded like he was barely awake anymore despite the TV being on.

“Mirror,” Theo mumbles, “Also pancakes.”

Stiles presses a kiss to soft lips. “I’m sure Bloody Mary will be banished by your snoring.”

Theo hums in agreement, then turns the two of them around quickly before using Stiles as a mattress; more to make sure he doesn’t leave than to make a point. Stiles doesn’t mind at all. In fact, he uses the chance to push his hands underneath Theo’s shirt who hides his face at the crook of Stiles’ neck – clearly his favourite place on his body. It’s probably a wolf thing. As long as he doesn’t bite him again, Stiles is absolutely fine with it.

“You’re like my grandmother’s cat,” Stiles declares as Theo starts to purr – or whatever the human equivalent is – while Stiles is running his fingers up and down his back, “He, too, was always an ass until you were alone with him. Then he pretended to be an angel.” He misses that stupid he-cat. But Genim had already been old when Stiles was six. If you look at it closely, it was his fault Stiles started to explore the preserve and the few abandoned places they have in Beacon Hills because he had used to sneak out and Stiles followed him around.

Theo, being his charming self, licks him as a response – from just above his collarbone to his chin and smirks down at Stiles with all the smugness he can muster while being still half asleep.

“I feel sexually harassed.”

“You talked about your nan's cat.” Theo raises a brow.

“Yeah, but I usually draw the line at bestiality.”

“So, no sex when I’m shifted.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles attempts to shove him off but Theo doesn’t move an inch while he is basically laughing his ass off. “That’s so disgusting.” As Theo leans down, Stiles pushes him away. “No, ew. Why are you the way you are?” He shakes his head. Is there really no normal person in his circle of friends – aside from Kira and Jordan? At least if you don’t take into account that they are a kitsune and a hellhound. But personality wise, the two of them aren’t displaying behavioural issues.

“I’ll behave,” Theo promises as he attempts to lie down again. Stiles lets him do as he likes, and sure enough, the chimera uses him as a pillow. He likes it, being this close, feeling Theo’s heart beat, his chest rise and fall. It’s simple, a normal occurrence for many couples probably but Stiles hasn't felt this normal in a long time – and it really says a lot how unusually normal such a normally usual moment feels. He already dreads the second it ends, the second he is thrown back into the reality he truly lives in.

With a frown, Theo props himself up. “What?” He asks sounding a bit more awake.

“What what?”

“You smell sad,” he replies cocking his head, “I don’t like it.”

Stiles probably shouldn’t find it as adorable as he does. Sometimes Theo unintentionally sounds like a little kid, maladroit and bemused – it happens mostly when he doesn’t understand something; like right now. No matter in how many directions he might think, Theo would never comprehend how and why Stiles could possibly be sad because Theo is pleased with what he has; a home, a pack and Stiles. He is content. Maybe it’s not perfect the way it is but Theo doesn’t need much to be happy. Stiles, on the other hand, had a shot at a normal life. He would give so much for a boring, ordinary, apple pie life. He would like Theo to know how it feels, how it can be.

He knows they will never have it.

With a small smile, Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s hair – who looks more and more confused by the second – and pulls him down for a kiss. As much attention as he might pay, he is just as easily distracted. Theo falls into the kiss almost immediately and Stiles uses the moment to turn them around again.

“We’ve been here before,” Theo chuckles his hands finding their places on Stiles’ hips, “Remember?”

He does. The first time the two of them got intimate – even though Stiles had just used the chimera and their attraction to stop thinking at that point in time. Now, he simply wants to remind himself to treasure what he has – and don’t be a fucking crybaby because he had to give something up he never truly had in the first place. “I’ve learned a thing or two,” Stiles preens.

Theo smirks – but his pupils dilate and put a dent in his _oh_ - _so_ cocky behaviour. Stiles has gotten used to Theo’s eyes roaming over his body, taking in everything. Even the things he’d rather cover up like the reminder of the nogitsune, his pale skin, the moles, Donovan’s bite. But Theo gives him a sense of security because he takes him as he comes, takes him exactly as he is with his flaws and his quirks and his rough character. Stiles would lie if he said it didn’t boost his self-confidence.

Stiles smiles leaning down again as Theo puts a hand on his cheek. His heart does an odd little skip. It’s funny that the most damaged person he knows makes him feel like that. They kiss again and rest their foreheads together, noses brushing. Theo’s grip tightens on his hips, blunt nails digging into his skin. That’s all the warning he gets before his lips are covered in a hungry kiss. _Fuck_. Not here. Not now. But as Theo wraps an arm around his shoulders and neck and claims his mouth, his composure is cracking.

For a moment, Stiles’ fingers curl tightly into soft fabric, then he pulls suddenly away slipping out from underneath Theo’s arm.

“What the-“

Stiles pecks him on the lips again, quickly, and hops off the couch. “Breakfast,” he reminds Theo decisively, who stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I was on it.”

Stiles clears his throat, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “Liam’s coming in a few.”

Theo jumps over the backrest of the couch, trailing him. “He’s old enough to know that his alpha has sex once in a while.”

Yeah. Stiles has accepted the fact that living with and getting visited by werewolves on a daily basis means giving up his privacy. It’s not like they wouldn’t immediately know Stiles and Theo did the dirty. That’s how it is. But Liam _and_ Lori are coming over because Brett and Isaac want to check out the factory with Jordan again – just in case whatever was running from them yesterday is actually living there. Stiles agreed to babysit the two of them since they could hardly let them go to school where they are not able to avoid mirrors properly. Also, he was ruled out because of his concussion. Which _rude_. Just because they’ve actually found something now doesn’t mean they are allowed to exclude him. And yet, all it took was very stern text message from his father to make him agree to stay home. This is his life now, alpha until his dad disagrees.

At the lack of a reply, Theo smirks again – expression positively predatory. “You’re a fucking tease,” he states.

Stiles pushes his hand the pockets of his jeans as Theo approaches. “You’re too easy.” He shrugs nonchalantly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“I heard that one before.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Theo hums again stopping only short of bumping into Stiles. “Remember what happened next?” But he doesn't exactly give any kind of chance for a reply. Instead he lifts him up, hands securely in place just underneath his ass. Stiles chuckles. All these supernatural creatures and their desire to show off strength whenever they can. Theo kisses the sound right from his lips. A second later he finds himself sitting on the dining table, Theo between his spread legs. They only part for a second and as soon as his shirt has been discarded rather unceremoniously, Theo presses his mouth right over his pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin between his lips.

Stiles can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage – and it costs him a lot to stop what his dear boyfriend is planning on doing. “Theo, no.” The throat is off limits when it comes down to love bites – for multiple reasons. The obvious one is because of the hierarchy. No matter how artificial, Theo is and will be part werewolf, a beta none the less. It’s unclear what picture it might paint, if his alpha is baring his throat this willingly for marking – or what it might tell the other wolves of the pack. The more poignant reason is John. Although Stiles guesses his father is well aware of the relationship the two are having, neither is ready to actually come out with the truth. Theo still worries about being shot and Stiles is so not ready for continuing the talk about his _type_.

“I said no,” Stiles repeats. Theo pinches him in the side in retaliation. But he stops worrying his skin there and instead presses slightly parted lips on his collarbone while dragging blunt nails up Stiles’ spine. He shudders almost helplessly at the two sensations.

Theo smirks.

Then the door to the loft is ripped open. Stiles flinches, almost elbowing Theo in the face. It’s probably good for the two of them, that the guy has quick reflexes – because that would have hurt him as well as Stiles.

“What the hell-“ He isn’t quite sure who is more irritated, Scott, Malia or Stiles. Theo, that’s for sure, seems to find the whole thing very amusing. Well, of _course_ , he does. The guy wanted to parade their relationship in front of Mali since before they’ve actually been officially dating. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Malia asks.

“Me,” Theo offers unhelpfully, “Well, he was about to.”

Stiles pushes him away, with enough force that the chimera realises his comment didn’t go unnoticed. With raised hands he steps away, letting Stiles get up and dressed without any disturbance. He heard them. That’s why he smirked. _Jackass_. While simultaneously trying his best to hide his embarrassment and managing to control his annoyance because of the interruption, Stiles faces Scott and Malia. It seems as if the two of them have merged into one humongous annoyance because they don’t appear to exist alone anymore. Then again, a wolf alone is a wolf half dead. He isn’t quite sure if that holds true for coyotes as well – but Stiles guesses they are everything they have left; until he sees Hayden leaning against the doorframe just behind Scott. Good. His former best friend seems to have rallied all the people who hate Theo with a passion. This is either a coincidence or a plan – or these really are the only fucking people who still rally behind Scott; even though Stiles has stated multiple times that he doesn’t want the pack to be involved in the whole _thing_ between the two of them. But these stupid werewolves are rallying behind their alpha because they are as senselessly loyal as Stiles himself, Lydia has always been closer to him than Scott and Kira feels awkward around her ex-boyfriend. And Mason is part of a package deal in which Corey’s practically a free gift. You get three for buying two or something.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks again, rubbing the side of his head with a frown. Although having slept only a little, he’s woken up without a headache. But it’s starting up again. All he wanted was to cuddle with Theo until Liam and Lori arrived and now he has to confront his former best friend, his ex-girlfriend and Hayden; man, he really does not like that chick.

Scott crosses his arms, then pushes his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You texted me that we needed to talk.”

Stiles examines their faces. Malia doesn’t take her eyes off Theo. Hayden has her lips curled into a tight line. For a brief second, he wonders how she holds on without an alpha. “First of all, you and I need to talk. I didn’t invite them over.” Stiles points at the two girls. “And I waited for a reply so we could figure out time and place for a talk.”

Theo, smiling as if he’s allowed to overeat on his favourite candy, comes to a halt beside him and pushes his hand into the back pocket of Stiles’ jeans. He’s trying his damndest to get a reaction out of Malia. To be fair, she deserves it after the stunt she pulled together with Scott. First, she kissed Stiles – something that came completely out of the left field – and then he drugged him. Honestly, it’s impressive that this is everything he does in this current point in time. Stiles expected Theo to do something even stupider. Him displaying the true depth of their relationship is considerably hand-tame.

“It sounded urgent,” Scott replies grabbing Malia’s wrist as she makes a step forward.

Stiles flicks his eyes to the rune beside the door. It still serves him dearly despite his concussion. But at least his head isn’t currently bothering him too much and as of yet, he doesn’t feel nauseous. Which is probably a good sign. Maybe his concussion finally leaves him the hell alone. Still, Stiles wonders if Scott knows about the fact that nobody can enter the loft who isn’t invited – it’s very vampire-esque, really, but none of them wants a repetition of the Donovan encounter. So, Stiles is not taking any risks.

Malia frees herself from Scott. “What’s that?” She asks instead of making another move.

Stiles follows her pointer to the secured mirror on the floor. The candles are burned halfway through. But the lines are still intact and the mirror seems pretty harmless overall. Perhaps it even is harmless. Maybe this whole security measure is completely fucking pointless. But, again, Stiles isn’t going to take any risks with this shit – and the next person who is provoking spirits, he will shove personally off a cliff. “We don’t know for sure yet,” he replies eventually.

“What _do_ you know?” Hayden sneers.

Stiles opens his mouth to tell her to go fuck herself but Theo beats him to it. “Liam wanted to sex up a girl and accidentally helped releasing Bloody Mary.” That wee bit of information is probably more effective than anything Stiles intended to say. Leave it to Theo to hit where it hurts.

Hayden stiffens visibly, eyes widening ever so slightly. Nobody says anything for a while but Malia narrows her eyes and Scott puts a hand on Hayden's shoulder. She shoves it off immediately. Yellow bleeds into her irises. So much for control without an alpha. But as she attempts to enter the loft, the barrier holds her back. It flashes a bright white then vanishes again. Stiles can feel the echo of it almost as if someone tapped a finger against his skull, something he would barely consider troublesome if not for the fact that his head has already been violated. Stunned, Hayden moves backwards. She shakes it off quickly and reaches a hand out again.

“Can you _not_ ,” Stiles snaps only seconds before she touches the barrier again.

Hayden blinks. “What is that?” Ignoring him completely, she pokes a finger at it. The barrier flashes bright white. He wonders if witches feel it as well when someone touches their magic. Because, holy crap, is that annoying.

“A big fat you’re not invited sign,” Theo singsongs.

Scott raises his hands. “Can we get back on topic?”

“ _That’s_ why I wanted to talk to you alone,” Stiles remarks. Nothing good could ever come out of it when Malia, Theo and Scott are in the same room. It’s hard enough to maintain a calm and collected exterior with only Stiles and Scott around; especially with his piss-poor anger management. The week of enforced rest due to his concussion has helped a lot in terms of calming his hurricane of emotions – but he doesn’t exactly trust himself with keeping his composure just yet; most of all around Scott.

“We’re here now,” Malia chimes in crossing her arms, “How about you let us in.”

“Not gonna happen,” Stiles replies. He gestures back and forth between them. “We talk about it in this very constellation, okay?” Allowing them in the loft would not only demand a new rune afterwards, it also is too much of a risk. Theo’s alone against three people, of whom one has barely any concerns when it comes to using violence, Hayden – whom Stiles doesn’t trust farther than he might be able to throw her and who he doesn’t know anything about either – and then Scotty, who had gone the lengths of agreeing to poison Theo without thinking about possible consequences – or ignored them; like he’d done that time where he used Derek to turn Gerard.

“Fine.” Scott gives Malia a look as she opens her mouth to complain. “What is going on?”

“As Theo has mentioned, we might have Bloody Mary running loose,” Stiles explains crossing his arms again. His embarrassment has fully subsided and been replaced by determination. He just wants to give Scott an update and have him gone. They might not even need his help but for some reason Stiles feels like he owes his former best friend a warning at the very least. “But we can’t be too sure. Last nigh-“

“Bloody Mary?” Hayden echoes in utter disbelief. God, Stiles hates this girl with a passion. He has no clue what Liam saw in her _at all_. She is obnoxious, condescending and has abysmal manners. From the very beginning, she thought that she is better than everybody else. Not that Stiles is in the position to judge other people’s love interests. Still, that girl is a grade-a bitch. “Are you really afraid of a stupid game little girls play during a sleepover?” Case in point. Just because her sister is a deputy in this town and she was bitten by mighty Scott McCall after she got hurt – ignoring that he literally signed her death certificate before. But, hey, he drew a line. The past is the past.

Stiles looks up. “You wanna try it?” He asks icily pointing to the mirror. “Go ahead. But maybe you should think about the boy who’s got his eyes ripped out of his sockets and died of heart attack in front of his mirror hours _after_ playing that stupid game little girls play during a sleepover.”

Hayden opens his mouth then closes it. Her eyes rest on the mirror but she doesn’t appear to be too keen on actually trying to prove Stiles wrong. Good. His favourite kind of people are those who are all bark and no bite.

“As I was saying,” Stiles continues looking at Scott again, “Last night we found something in an abandoned factory. It wasn’t a ghost but we don’t want to rule out a connection.” Because that would simply be naïve. He’s not going to risk ignoring even the smallest of clues; and even if that undead thing doesn’t have anything to do with the current problem at hand, it needs to be checked out and, if necessary, they need to get rid of it.

Scott glances at the floor for a moment. “What do you wanna do?”

Not ask kindly if it wants to haunt another town, that’s for damn sure.

Shouts from staircase interrupt the conversation. Then there is a groan followed by a whirlwind of footsteps. Only a few moments later, Liam zooms past his three former pack members like hell is on his heels. Again, he slitters to a stop behind Stiles crouching down and breathing heavily.

“What happened to your nose?” Theo asks with a raised brow.

His question is answered in form of Brett Talbot and his little sister sauntering into the loft. They acknowledge the presence of the other three with a nod.

Sighing, Stiles turns around. “Why is he bleeding?”

“Because he is an idiot,” Brett announces. He doesn’t come into the loft fully, simply waits on the staircase while is sister is passing him with narrowed eyes. Her backpack drops to the floor with a loud thud – she seems to have brought her school books with her. Annoyed like this, Lori has a striking resemblance to her brother. To be honest, Stiles has always assumed she is the heart of the siblings. But he should know better than to think in clichés.

“I didn’t know idiocy causes people to start spontaneously bleeding from the nose,” Stiles remarks sharply.

Brett smirks. “It’s a new phenomenon.”

“You punched him, didn’t you?” Stiles looks down at Liam.

Theo, who has crouched down to inspect the damage closely – either because he’s worried _or_ because he wants to be a dick, you never know with him – looks up. “It’s broken.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Stiles notices a smile blooming on Lori’s face. “ _I_ punched him.”

Theo barks out a laugh, a sharp contrast to the dead silence from the people at the door. “Damn.” He pats the back of Liam’s head who, in return, glares at his packmate, “Poor Liam getting knocked out by a girl.”

Stiles rubs his temples. He gets that werewolves are somewhat a bit more violent – particularly when they are among themselves – than normal teenagers. But he has to put a stop to this. Seriously. Whether or not they are healing quickly, this is no solution to their problems. Also, he is talking himself blue in the face to teach Theo lessons about how to find a solution via talking – just like he had done with Malia – and he is not ready to lose progress because of the Talbots being pissed at Liam. “Listen,” he says turning to Lori, who raises her brows in the same defiant way her brother used to do. Okay, Talbots during their puberty – not easy to handle. Duly noted. “I do understand why you did it and all that jazz… but can we maybe not punch _my_ beta?” It may be childish but Stiles can’t stop himself from looking at Scott as he says it – honestly, the hurt crossing over his features is somewhat pleasing. “We don’t want to unleash the alpha,” Stiles continues turning to Lori again. “He gets moody quickly.” Although he doubts his void wakes up because of teenage quarrel, he really doesn’t want to push it to find out if he’s right.

Lori frowns and glances at her brother. They communicate with only looks for a couple of seconds. Then, almost like Brett just told her something she isn’t happy about, she nods. “ _Fine_.”

Liam stands up again, fingers carefully feeling his nose. “Can we maybe stop punching Liam because he’s sorry?”

“No.” Lori crosses her arms decisively. “I’m only nice because Brett wants me to – and he’s only nice because he respects Stiles.”  

That, truth be told, is enough for him right now.

 

Brett left with the promise to call as soon as they found something peculiar. Scott, Malia and Hayden did leave, too, although the latter had attempted to talk to Liam and with that had ran into the barrier a couple of times. Headaches ensued. Theo eventually simply slammed the door in their faces – or not so much in their faces. But he would have done so if it were possible. Now, Lori is sitting at the table working through her school books – she seriously seems more peeved by the fact that she missed school than the Damocles sword dangling over her head; Lydia is going to love her – Liam and Theo are playing a video game and Stiles is switching between reading a book, helping Lori and staring at his phone waiting for a text or call from either Isaac or Brett.

“I hate being pointless.”

Theo looks at him over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “After what happened yesterday, you’re staying home, Mr. Concussion.”

“But nothing really happened.”

“Can you maybe watch from the side line _once_?” Theo asks pausing the game to properly turn around – thereby completely ignoring Liam’s complaints.

Stiles throws the book away and gets to his feet. “I’ve been benched more than enough.”

“No wonder my brother likes you,” Lori remarks without looking up from her school work, “Lacrosse isn’t comparable to a life and death situation.”

It’s obvious that she never met Coach Finstock. Because that guy sure as hell wanted to make you think that losing a Lacrosse game means losing a war. After Jackson leaving, the team has suffered a major loss but after Danny left the goal, the cyclones started sucking so bad. Seriously. It was painful watching. It was even more painful playing – particularly when they had to go up against Devenford Prep.

“I’m just saying that now that I can do something,” Stiles explains gesturing wildly around the room, “I don’t want to sit here while Isaac, Jordan and even Brett do something potentially dangerous.”

Theo drops the controller between his legs and gets to his feet. “Okay,” he sounds astonishingly reasonable all of the sudden. Stiles doesn’t trust it. “You have  a concussion and you are having headache again-“ Stiles opens his mouth but Theo raises his hand and talks right over him – “Don’t deny it. I saw you massaging your temples a couple of times since everyone left.” Right. He needs to remember that Theo is always watching even if he thinks he doesn’t. “And your void is – huh – dormant, right?” Ah, there’s the sneer Stiles expected from the very beginning. “So, I don’t really get what you want to do now.”

Liam and Lori exchange a quick but obvious look. It’s the first direct interaction they had after the youngest Talbot broke his nose.

Stiles breathes in and out very slow and deliberately. This is not going to turn into a fight. This is going to be talked over in a sophisticated manner. This is going to go over very smoothly. No arguments. No snapping. He can do that. “I’ve had an idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“You don’t even know what I wanted to say.”

Theo crosses his arms raising a brow. “Well, I know _you_ and what suicidal plans you come up with on a daily basis.”

“As if,” Stiles mutters.

“So,” Theo drawls stepping closer and grinning, showing every ounce of arrogance he harbours. If he knows he’s got the upper hand, he’d never ever pass on showing – not even when it is Stiles. His pride is aggravating. “You didn’t plan on doing the ritual to make Bloody Mary come here and trap her in that circle of salt and mountain ash?”

Well, _fuck_.

Lori whips her head around. “ _What_?”

“Oh _god_.” Liam almost stumbles over his own feet as he tries to get distance between the mirror and himself as quickly as possible.  

Stiles gestures for a moment, then shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s a plan.” Probably. Most likely. Okay, to be honest. It sounded better in his head. _Still_. “We trap her there, destroy the mirror and all’s fine.” He pulls his shoulders up.

Liam gapes at him. “All is _fine_ , he says.”

“Look,” Lori says closing her books and shoving them away from her, “if you want to conjure some demon spawn from the great mirror world, that’s all fine and dandy.” She jumps to her feet. Shaking her head, she angles her backpack off the floor to drop it on the table. “But, please, wait for me to leave before you start.” Oh, good god. Brett’s going to murder him if Stiles attempts anything stupid although he is supposed to watch out for his sister. He’s probably already going to be pissed because he has been _thinking_ about doing something stupid. This is just glorious. He’s benched by his betas and Brett’s sister.

Stiles throws his hands in the air. “I hate this.”

“You’re not supposed to like it,” Theo replies trying – and failing – to sound soothing. In fact, he sounds far too smug about having won the argument this quickly. “Just be reasonable.” Be _reasonable_. Well, Theo might be right but it’s still not great tasting one’s own medicine. Being reasonable sucks ass; particularly now that he is supposed to sit at home perfecting the waiting game. He hates parlour games – he hates games in general that don’t involve a computer or console.

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “I hate this,” he repeats with a little more emphasis. “This is bullshit and I don’t wanna chill here while my pack is out there getting themselves in possible danger because of dim-witted teenagers playing around with ghosts!” His voice is rising and with that the hammering behind his temples. Liam is shrinking in on himself. The stress doesn’t help with his concussion. His life doesn’t help with this concussion – and he most likely won’t properly heal as long as this thing is running loose in Beacon Hills wreaking havoc and killing people.

“How about you make notes on the dead guy?” Theo proposes crossing his arms, “I mean, we need to do it eventually.”

“We can’t find an MO yet,” Stiles replies, although he knows Theo is absolutely right with what he said. They have to find a pattern eventually. Otherwise they’ll never figure out which people might be next on the list – the only problem with this plan is that he’s not in the field. He doesn’t know if it is his void that makes him restless or it is just himself being terrible at doing exactly nothing.  

Theo puts a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe something sticks out.” His fingers tips dig into Stiles’ shoulder; a signal that doesn’t need a lot of interpretation. Theo won’t let him go anywhere and in case Stiles manages to find a way to sneak out, that he can be sure about, all Hell is going to break lose. There are people, who are protective, then there are these few people who take their behaviour up a good notch and then, on top of that list, standing proudly on the midst of the winner’s podium, is Theo. It’s not even funny anymore.

“I was promised breakfast,” Liam complains inching closer to the table and with that the mirror again. “Pancakes to be exact. Can I get that before we’re, like, doing the interview?” Lori and Liam both knew the dead guy, so it isn’t going to be particularly hard to get information on Jason Gagnon. Stiles also heard from his dad how he died, so he can jot that down as well.

Theo rolls his eyes. “I’ll make some. You answer the questions.”

“Is this going to he some good cop, bad cop thing?” Lori asks.

Liam yanks a chair towards him. “I want _Stiles’_ pancakes.”

“You’re going to take what is offered to you.”

“Great,” Liam pouts, “Now you’ll going to let them burn on purpose.”

Stiles snaps his fingers for attention. Lori, who has already sat down again, smirks at Liam. She is going to pull a Brett Talbot if he doesn’t put an end to it – or Liam learns to backtalk. But since that’s never ever going to happen, it’ll be Stiles’ job to keep the conversation civil and going. “So, how was Jason?” He flops down on the chair at the head of the table, ignoring Theo squeezing his shoulder.  

“He was an ok guy.”

“He was a dick.”

“What?” Liam asks staring at Lori. “He was a nice guy.”

Lori raises a brow. “Oh please,” she retorts looking like she’s just smelled something rotten, “That guy’s picture was printed beside the word narcissist in _every_ dictionary ever.”

Stiles looks up at Theo, who squints at the two of them. There are only a few things he actually knows about Jason. He and his family moved to Beacon Hills during Stiles’ senior year. Since that was busier than usual, with people dying, chimeras running loose and Mason rampaging through the city, he couldn’t be bothered with the new kids. He was in Liam’s year and in the basketball team – if Stiles remembers correctly. But he doesn’t recall having ever taken notice of him in the halls or anywhere else. Their contrasting statements don’t help to assess Jason’s personality either.

“That’s not true.” Liam shakes his head.

Lori scoffs. “He made fun of Sydney just because she was held back.”

“He did not.”

“He _did_.”

Well, thank god, the two of them are completely pointless. Thankfully, his phone distracts him from their bickering. With a sigh, he gets to his feet and crosses the room back to the couch. Theo follows him, shaking his head. It’s nothing too unusual that two people perceive one and the same person differently but that simply takes the cake.

“You think they already know that they are so going to kiss and make-up in the near future?” Theo whispers wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist again.

“Probably not.”

“Should we tell them?”

“That their hostility is really just suppressed sexual attraction?”

Theo hums.

“Probably not,” Stiles grins. But it fades quickly as he reads the message from Isaac. _Found something._ Stiles hoped they would come back empty handed, that whatever they saw yesterday has already left the city – gone for good and that the only thing they needed to worry about is the pissed of spirit of Bloody Mary. They know how you handle spirits. They don’t know how to handle the undead.

With a terrible hunch, he opens the message fully. Theo props his chin on Stiles’ shoulder to watch as the picture Isaac sent him is downloaded to his phone. As it’s finished, Stiles enlarges it – and immediately regrets doing so.

“Oooh,” Theo says looking back at Liam and Lori, “You two are _so_ screwed.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I said it’s _time out_ ,” Stiles yells and _finally_ the two werewolves shut up. Liam shifts uncomfortably pulling his shoulders up to his ears. Lori seems more surprised about the authority in his voice than anything else – but she drops on the couch with her arms crossed. Teenagers. There really couldn’t have been a pack of mid-twenties around who needed an alpha? It _had_ to be teenagers? He’s aging double by the second. His poor nerves. “Nobody’s going to die, alright? We’ll get through this.” He watches Lori watching him with furrowed brows. “What?”

She shrugs. “Brett says you’ll figure everything out.” Theo rolls his eyes at another mention of her brother talking about Stiles but decides not to say anything. “I haven’t seen you do much figuring out.”

“ _Hey_.” Liam points at her obviously grasping for something more to say.

“The picture is the first real clue I had since the two of you are as observant as Harry Potter,” Stiles remarks turning back to the laptop. He needed to see the picture properly in order to be able to figure out whether this helps them in any way.

Liam makes a sound of indignation. “At least he was the hero of the story,” he decides, flopping down on the chair opposite Theo, who only raises his brow.

“He would have died his first year at Hogwarts if not for Hermione,” Lori spits.

Theo groans.

Stiles taps his pen on the notepad in front of him. If he had the option, he would throw the two of them out the loft so he can concentrate. Sadly, there isn’t really anything he is able to do. Of course, he could tell Theo to lock the two up in the rooms upstairs. But he doubts Brett would be happy about this particular fact and Stiles couldn’t just punish Liam for acting up when the two of them are at fault. Also, he cannot really be angry with either considering that they are afraid after what they saw on the picture – _although_ it was their own fucking fault they are in this situation in the first place.

The picture in question shows a piece broken out of the wall or ceiling on which multiple jars have found their place. These jars contain highly concerning things; in fact, it’s eyeballs. Many eyeballs – sorted into colour. Really. Delightful. Stiles doesn’t want to think about the stench there. Even with the jars tightly closed, the eyes are rotting and one of the glasses has a crack that is visibly on the picture. Which means that the smell must be leaking out. He isn’t envying Brett, Isaac and Jordan right now. Because even without a supernatural nose, you might be able to get a whiff of rotten eyes. There are also things written on the wall.

Superbia.

Pride.

Proverbs 30:17.

Stiles checked what the proverb says. It seems very sketchy. ‘ _The eye_ _that_ _mocketh at_ _his_ _father, and despiseth to obey_ _his_ _mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out and the young eagles shall eat it.’_ Since Jason died in front of his mirror after his eyes had been ripped out and now they found a place in the abandoned factory, where someone lived and collected eyes, he is pretty sure they found their culprit. Although Stiles began to doubt they are dealing with Bloody Mary. The mirror might serve as some form of connection and whatever is currently annoying the town isn’t a ghost. Because ghosts don’t usually keep trophies or bleed, for that matter. He doesn’t know what pride has to do with their case.  

Unless… what did Lori say? ‘ _That guy’s picture is printed beside the word narcissist in_ _every_ _dictionary ever.’_ This statement would check out with what is written on these walls – and, if he considers it, that Jason died in front of a mirror. He probably looked at his reflection and praised himself which pissed of whatever they are hunting.

“Well, shit.” Stiles slams his laptop shut and turns to face the mirror. “I think the two of you are of the leash.”

“What?

“ _What_?”

“How come?”

Stiles rubs his forehead. “Whatever we’re dealing with,” he explains turning around to look at Liam, “It’s not after normal teenagers like you.” Liam has anger issues but he definitively is the least arrogant person ever. The only thing he is proud of are his skills in lacrosse. But that isn’t enough to say he is filled with _pride._ Theo can be an arrogant prick – especially if he knows he has the upper hand. Still, his inferior complex keeps him far, far away from anything that could remotely be called hubris. Isaac is Isaac and Mason is, well, Mason. His pack is pretty pride free. They aren’t exactly what someone can call the most modest group of people. They are pretty damn normal, if you think about it.

Lori claps her hands and jumps to her feet. “Never underestimate a Gryffindor.” She smirks and Stiles shakes his head with a small chuckle. But he, too, gets to his feet.

“He seems more like a Ravenclaw,” Liam states with the biggest grin on plastered on his lips. Understandably. Seems like the guy will keep his eyes. Stiles can only hope that he learned his lesson anyway and will never be stupid enough to play around with ghosts ever again. The next time that happens, Stiles is going to spray him off with liquid wolfsbane.

“I was sorted into Slytherin, you unobservant muggles.” Determined, he turns in the direction of the mirror. Without the fear of his pack getting ganked because of their own idiocy, he is a lot more relaxed – and doesn’t need to worry about them getting hurt. He crosses the room.

“Stiles?!” Theo pipes up.

“All right, listen up, you little shit,” Stiles says ignoring the alarm in Theo’s voice. He crosses the line of salt and mountain ash and couches down. His eyes lock with his reflection's. “I hope this stupid thing works-“ he taps the glass with a scoff, ignoring the crashing of a chair behind him – “Because I'd like to give you a heads up. You’re messing with the wrong person.”

“Stiles!” Theo yells, “Will you stop-“

But Stiles simply rises a hand and Theo comes to a sudden stop, almost as if someone yanked him back by a leash around his neck. “I will hunt you,” he continues as if nothing happened, “and I will crush you like the worthless piece of crap you are.” Liam breathes a curse in the background. Theo is silently hovering just outside the protection line. Lori states at him with wide eyes. “Don’t take it personally but you and I know I’m right. After all, I killed things more dangerous than you. I doubt you’re a challenge to someone like me.”

Stiles takes one of the candles and waits for a moment, hoping something would tell him if his taunt has reached its destination. As nothing happens, he slams the candle jar into the mirror – watching, with satisfaction, as it cracks. He guesses it conveys the same message as spitting in somebody’s face. “Come and get me, _bitch_.”

Theo yanks him up by the back of his shirt. “What the _hell_ did you just do?”

 

Stiles has never seen so many different stages of anger as he did today. Lori was mildly irritated. They don’t know each other well enough for her to be severely angered by his actions. But she obviously agreed with the overall opinion. Brett was positively pissed. They might not be close but they are on the best way to become friends – and he didn’t send his little sister to be protected by a reckless asshole. Liam was angry arguing that Stiles can’t be mad at him for pissing of unknown forces and then go ahead and do the same. Isaac was right there with him, furiously reminding Stiles that they could have made a better plan now that they know where this thing lives.

Theo is beside himself with rage. He has been yelling at Stiles for almost half an hour now, every time finding a new argument as to why what he did is completely and utterly mad and goes against everything they agreed on. As not to interrupt Theo or give him even more canon fodder, Stiles is patiently listening. He doesn’t agree or defend his actions. He simply sits there, on the bed they usually share at night and let’s Theo vent. All the while being fully aware that the werewolves downstairs can hear every single word – then again, even a human could understand what Theo throws in his face.

“Are you going to say something?”

Stiles tries his hardest not to roll his eyes. He understands Theo’s anger, he knows where it’s coming from – but this is as useful as shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. He will apologise for this behaviour. He will make up for being reckless. He will not promise never to be stupid ever again. “Can I even say something?”

“What?” Theo hisses.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase,” Sties says calmly, “can I even say anything that would dissolve this situation?”

Theo crosses his arms. “Probably not.”

“You still want me to say something?” He’s just checking because the things he intends to say might fire another bomb – and he doesn’t want to fight with Theo, headaches or no headaches. He’s tired of fighting.

“Yes,” Theo says.

Stiles offers him a tired smile. “Can you promise _not_ to yell at me?”

“Depends on how stupid I’ll think your argument is.”

Stiles raises a brow.

Theo pulls a face. “Fine. I’ll promise.”

“Remember how you jumped in front of Kira?” Stiles asks his voice still soft and quiet hoping his statements won’t be less of an accusation and more of a gentle reminder. “And how you attacked the onis?” Theo narrows his eyes, obviously very aware of what Stiles is getting at. “Both while being basically human. I’m not saying what I did is smart-“ The only response to that is a snort- “But I thought you at least could understand my thinking.” Stiles raises a brow and Theo closes his mouth again, furrowing his brows. “And if you don’t, this is the nice alternative to: Shut up. You don’t have the right to tell me anything.”  

Theo sighs audibly. His posture relaxes. “I still wanna yell at you,” he admits sitting down next to Stiles.

“But?”

“ _But_ I promised I won’t.”

“And?” Stiles can feel a smirk creeping onto his own lips.

“And I know it won’t help me get into this thick skull of yours,” Theo replies. That answer isn’t exactly what Stiles expected but he takes it nonetheless. For one, he really doesn’t want to push his luck, for another Theo is one hundred percent right. It doesn’t matter what he will say, what’s done is done. “I just-“ Theo intertwines their fingers, squeezing tightly- “I’m scared of- I can’t lose you, okay? You are too important to- you’re everything I have.”

It’s the most emotionally loaded message Theo has given him – and it scares Stiles, it really does. For one, being this important to someone is fricking terrifying; knowing that you hold their heart in the palm of your hand. For another, Stiles will never feel the same way about Theo. No matter how much he will end up caring for him, maybe even loving him, Theo will never be _everything he has_. There will always be his father and Lydia. There will always be Melissa, even if the relationship to Scott is strained – she is like a mother for him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.” That, at the very least, is something he can promise.

“I’m being serious here.”

Stiles smiles squeezing back and leaning over to press a quick kiss to Theo’s lips. “So am I.”

“Aww, isn’t that adorable.” Brett is leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed at his ankles and hands deep in the pocket of his jeans.

Theo scrunches up his nose. “What do you want?”

Brett shrugs half-heartedly. “It got quiet all of the sudden,” he explains trying to sound nonchalant but the way he pointedly avoids Stiles’ eyes says more than enough, “We were worried you murdered him.” Stiles shakes his head. “Nobody expected you’re emotionally castrated pool boy to suddenly go all sappy.” Most of the time, Brett is a laid-back guy. But his no-fucks-given attitude sometimes tumbles into an asshole character. It won’t make anybody cry in this pack. Still, sometimes he could tone it down a little bit.

“And _that_ from a guy whose emotional spectrum fits on a teaspoon,” Theo shoots back.

Brett smirks. “At least I have one.”

“Touché.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathes pressing a hand to his chest in mock-shock. “Are the two of you _bonding_?”

“With that fraud of a werewolf? Never.” Brett acts appalled but he winks at Theo before turning around and going back downstairs.

Stiles tugs Theo to his feet, who yanks him back and into his arms. He lets himself fall against him, hiding his face at the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. Stiles will never get enough of these moments silent but all too telling. _Thank you for understanding_ said in the mild squeeze of fingers against spine. _Don’t you dare get hurt_ ordered in tight arms around his waist and fingertips pressing into his side. Stiles wraps his arms around Theo’s shoulders and kisses a small trail up from his jaw to his temple, smiling.

“Come on,” he says, “I still owe Liam pancakes.”

The two of them venture down the stairs where Stiles makes a beeline for the kitchen dodging Isaac’s disapproving expression. “So,” he drawls leaning over the counter to watch his alpha with raised brows, “What’s your genius plan?”

Stiles glances at the people in the loft. Lori has found her place behind her books again. Brett is leaning over her shoulder. Liam and Theo are sitting on the opposite end of the table, not talking to each other but exchanging an almost meaningful look. Stiles will never get behind what kind of relationship the two of them have – aside from being pack. They are loyal to each other, still, it’s not quite friendship yet. Aside from himself, the only one Theo has a real relationship to appears to be Kira. The two of them have cooked – or attempted to cook – last week and were extremely relaxed around each other. Which is surprising since Kira had sent Theo to Hell and the guy knows very well how to hold a grudge. He has also seen the two of them studying together sharing a bag of crisps and groaning over mathematical problems. One pack member at a time seems to be a good tempo for Theo; although Stiles wonders how long Theo will be apprehensive of Lydia. It’s not that he doesn’t like her. In fact, her smarts and attention seem to scare him.

“Breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Isaac echoes.

Stiles sends a blinding smile in his direction then shoves six plates in his hands. “Yes,” he says, “breakfast. We’re not doing anything on an empty stomach.”

Liam whips his head around. “Are you going to make the pancakes the way your grandmother did?”

Brett looks up with a confused expression. Lori raises her brow. “Cute,” she states after a second of silence, “real cute. How old are you again?”

“Oh, love,” Isaac says while distributing the dishes on the table. He even set one on her books just out of spite, “You’ll understand when you’ve tasted them.”

“Not to be a Debbie-downer,” Brett sighs flopping down at his sister’s right, “but what are we gonna do when that thing shows up for Stiles?” He puts his chin onto his crossed arms. Lori puts a hand on the back of his head patting him. Her actions somehow remind him of Lydia. The two of them would get along particularly well. He also thinks they might be a dangerous combination.

Stiles dumps the yeast in the milk, sugar and flour mixture. “Smack it around?”

“Smack it around?” Theo asks, “That’s what you’re going with?”

“It has a heartbeat,” Stiles replies mixing eggs and salt. It’s one of the few recipes he knows by heart. His grandmother had taught his mother how to make Racuchy and his mother taught him. Stiles made them for his father more times than he can count – the vegan alternative, of course. But he’s making breakfast for a pack of werewolves; he doesn’t need to watch out for their diets. “If it has a heartbeat,” he continues kneading the contents of the two bowls together, “we will be able to stop it.” If the normal ways don’t work, there are different methods – beheading it, ripping its heart out, the usual _there-is-no-other-way_ options.

“You mean kill it,” Liam concludes.

Stiles nods. He puts a towel over the bowl and drops the other into the sink. The dough needs to rest for half an hour, then he can cook them and they can eat.

“Don’t let Scotty hear your plans,” Theo smirks.

Brett rolls his eyes. “Quit it.”

Lori taps her finger on his brother’s shoulder blade in an unsteady rhythm. “So, we’re killing it.”

“You sound disturbingly unimpressed by this fact for a little girl,” Isaac observes but he eyes the bowl filled with dough suspiciously. Stiles jabs a finger against his forehead in warning.

Lori clicks her tongue. “I’m pretty sure I can whip your ass, tough guy.”

“Maybe you should keep that attitude toned down as long as something’s out there that’s not the biggest fan of arrogance,” Theo remarks but he is grinning at Lori. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he would say the guy is completely head over heels for her. It’s not that he is jealous or anything but he’s moving over to him anyway and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

Lori raises a brow. “I’m not going to pull a Hayden.”

“Seriously,” Brett agrees, straightening again, “That-“ He stops speaking suddenly, shoulders going rigid. It takes no more than a couple of seconds before Stiles realises _why_. Hayden. Fucking _Hayden_. She fits the profile. A self-absorbed little bitch. One of her strongest streaks definitively is her pride. With a capital p.

For fucks sake, why can’t he just hate a person in peace?

“Call Mason,” Stiles orders pointing at Liam.

“What? He is in class.”

Brett slaps him upside down the head. “Fucking call him or I do!”

“You lost me.”

“How do you put up with his stupidity?” Lori asks already on her feet. But Brett yanks her back onto the chair keeping her there with a single pointed look, expression dark. Okay. That’s levels of alpha-ness Stiles seriously needs to reach. Maybe Brett can teach him. It’s fucking impressive. He doesn’t need to say ‘You’re staying’ for Lori to know that she won’t be leaving the loft until the problem’s solved.

Stiles shrugs. “Alcohol.”

“You don’t even drink-“

“Liam,” Isaac calls from the kitchenette, “It’s time to shut up now.”

 

“If this is some sort of joke-“

Theo tightens her grip around her arm and yanks her forward. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, if Liam thinks-“

“Less talking, more moving,” Brett hisses from behind her. Stiles looks over his shoulder. The school is relatively empty but it is not even half an hour until the classes end and the hallways are filled with students. They need to get out of here quickly. If someone catches two ex-students and Beacon County's golden boy dragging Hayden through the school building, it might not look too good. Well, it would be helpful if she just walked like a normal person. But obviously she thinks they are planning on murdering her or something.

Theo comes to an abrupt halt. Brett smacks into him. “Do you smell that?”

Hayden cranes her neck.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” Stiles asks. He wouldn’t even be surprised. This school is cursed. It’s like supernatural creatures in here feel the excessive need to spread pain and terror. It’s probably the teenage angst. Even human teenagers tend to be more emotional conflicted in these frustrating halls.

“Either that,” Theo replies, “Or there’s a dead body in the ventilation system.”

“Nothing should surprise you in this school,” Stiles deadpans, “Ok. Fuck it. Through the emergency do-“ But that is far too late. With crossed arms and a smirk on his lips, one that lets Theo’s appear charming and heartfelt, a guy steps in their way. The small group stops in their tracks. Hayden presses her hands over her nose and mouth with a retching sound.

“That’s not nice,” the guy says clicking his tongue.

For some reason, Stiles has expected their problem of a week a chick in a white dress and the eyes of a maniac. But maybe he shouldn’t be so prejudiced. It would also help, if he thought less in clichés. Well, he can’t really help himself.

“I see you got my message?” Stiles asks ignoring Theo’s obvious glare. The chimera wasn’t happy about him coming with them in the first place after the stunt he had pulled. He’s probably fuming that he makes snide remarks at a potentially deadly threat.

The guy, boy – he doesn’t seem to be much older than them, perhaps a junior at college – cocks his head. “I did,” he agrees with a small nod, “But I see your heart. You and I-“

“Oh no, oh god,” Stiles groans shaking his head, “Keep the speech to yourself. I really don’t care.” The guy straightens his posture, smirk slowly fading from his features. “What? Have your readings been wrong?” Stiles can see the tick in his jaw from where he stands. Funny. Theo does the same thing when he is pissed. “Newsflash, buddy,” he spits ignoring as Brett tugs at his jacket, “I’m not like any of you pathetic supernatural twats who think they are entitled to do whatever they please however they want.” He curls his hands into tight fists, “You are tussling with the wrong pack. We got rid of things with a bigger ego than yours.”

It’s a second, then two. A small shift in the guy's stance. “Your eyes will have a place of honour in my collection.”

“Sorry, not gonna happen. I won’t let you touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

“Oh my-“ Brett yanks him around a second before the guy charges them. Then, only a heartbeat later, he lifts him of the ground mid-run and throws him over his shoulder.

“What the-?”

“I’m saving your ass,” Brett snaps skittering around a corner – Stiles can see Theo head of as well. Hayden doesn’t move, too stunned by what just happened. He doesn’t expect her to be grateful. They manage to run no more than a couple steps for Stiles to decide that this is the most awkward mode of transportation but he guesses it’s the only possible way right now. Because the guy easily keeps up with Brett, who is faster than your average werewolf due to excessive lacrosse training.

They are out of the building rather quickly. Stiles manages a small grin, waving at the thing following them. “What’s the plan?” Brett asks taking a sharp left.

“I’m working on it.”

Stiles can see determination in Theo’s face, his eyes turn bright yellow – for a brief second, he wonders if they’ll ever turn blue, if Theo will ever feel sorry for killing so many people – then he and whatever that thing following them are cut off from view as Brett turns sharp right and jumps up the bleachers. “A little warning?” Stiles yelps clawing his fingers into the back of the sweater. One second, then another and they are basically flying a couple meters; the landing is surprisingly smooth and they are zooming into the woods without any hesitation at all.

“How’s the plan going?”

“Uh-“

“Oh, great.”

The guy-thing and Theo come back into view. Or rather, the guy-thing and a wolf; a wolf that quickly diminishes the distance in-between them. “Stop running.”

Brett ignores him.

“Hey, I said stop.” Stiles shuffles around but it is impossible to wiggle free out of his grip. “Okay, how do I draw the reins here, my little pony?”

Theo growls. He jumps the distance and sinks his teeth into the thing’s calf. It slams to the floor with an all too human yelp. If it weren’t rotting, killing people and obviously supernatural, one could almost mistake it for a real human being. But as Theo attempts to yank it back, the skin simply slides off its leg – like peeling of a tangerine. Stiles presses a hand to his nose. That’s fucking disgusting. It kicks Theo in the face with his free leg. The erupting howl, at the very least, brings Brett to a stop – and a moment later, Stiles is back on his own two feet after a fashion. He stumbles forward, using a tree to gain balance.

Brett snarls, claws at the ready.

“I will wear all your pretty boys’ skins,” it hisses, “And that of those who think they are better than everyone else.” Someone seems to have some serious self-esteem issues.  

Stiles pushes himself off the tree. “I know what you are.”

“Then you know that you can’t kill me.”

Smug, that’s the only word Stiles can use for its expression. All these people and their double standards. Pretending to be better than others just because they do harm to those that love themselves more than anything. It’s fucking bullshit. “Because I don’t know your real name?” Stiles asks, “Did you use your little mirror tricks to get new faces? Do _you_ even remember your own name?”

Theo gets onto his feet again, shaking of the pain. He snarls again, canines bared and bloody. Brett looks over his shoulder at Stiles, eyes vicious – ready to kill. They are waiting for his signal, waiting for his order to kill. It’s weird. Thinking about it.

“Let’s see you talking smack without your head on your shoulders.” Because Stiles doubts a skinwalker can only be killed when you call its name.

Brett and Theo move at the same time. Astonishingly, the two werewolves move in perfect sink; they fight as if they had never done anything else. They tear into him- into _it_. Brett goes for the arms, Theo the legs. The skinwalker doesn’t have a chance, not even the smallest. Bones are cracking. Flesh is tearing. His scream is reverberating through the woods until it turns into a wet gargle, a sound of dying, and then silence. It is over so fast and yet Stiles gets the feeling it doesn’t end.

They kill for him. They rip apart a threat without hesitation because Stiles tells them to. It’s a violent power he possesses. Power he needs to learn how to control, how to wield. He isn’t quite sure telling two adolescents to kill something that is a remarkable copy of a real human being is something he should do with it; especially if one of them is in therapy _because_ of being damaged and jumping on the murder train too quickly. Hopefully this shit isn’t a setback. He really doesn’t want to see Theo regress.

“Go away.” Brett grabs Theo by the neck and yanks him off the skinwalker. Snarling and bloody, the wolf tries to free himself but Brett is superior and he sends Theo flying. With another howl, he slams to the ground, leaves and small branches lift in the air. Stiles opens his mouth, trying to understand what the hell just happened or what the fuck this idiot is thinking throwing Theo away like that. The wolf comes to his feet again, teeth bared and anger directed at Brett this time – but before either of them can react, Stiles hears the crack of bones as the shapeshifter’s neck is snapped.

Theo slitters to a stop and Stiles grabs Brett’s shoulder, his muscles moving underneath the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Brett raises his hands looking in Theo’s direction. He doesn’t get to his feet but onto his knees, kneeling in the dirt and blood and skin. “But you wouldn’t let go.” Stiles draws his eyebrows in. Theo doesn’t stop growling. In fact, he seems like he is about to rip Brett’s throat out – or at least attack him hard enough that he can feel the pain Theo’s ego must suffer. “Listen,” he urges turning to Stiles now, “tell your guard dog I did it so he wouldn’t have to kill anybody.”

“What?” Stiles asks.

Brett gestures shortly watching as Theo approaches slowly. “He is in therapy,” he explains himself then, “I just thought that, perhaps, killing someone might cause some sort of _regress_ or something.”

“You threw him off so Theo wouldn’t have to kill anybody?”

“Yeah,” Brett says narrowing his eyes. “Also, Scott can’t-“ He stop suddenly as Theo snaps at his wrist but he doesn’t bite him. Instead he snaps at it again and again until Brett eventually raises his hand in utter confusion.

Stiles crouches down running his finger through his fur.

Theo bumps his nose against the palm of Brett’s hands then sits down on his hindlegs. “Thanks,” Stiles translates, “Also, thank you. It means a lot.” As Brett attempts to crawls Theo between his ears, the wolf snaps at him again. Stiles chuckles.

“Well, I guess this is as grateful as he gets.”

“It is.” Stiles falls backwards and onto the leaves, sighing audibly. Theo drapes himself over his crossed legs, still watching Brett. If he were human, he’d scrunch up his nose in mild disdain. They are a surprisingly good team, despite their differences. Protecting each other is one thing but Brett actually cares enough for Theo that he killed something for him. “We probably should call my dad.”

The three of them look at the skinwalker, with his head in a disgusting angle and skin torn of as if it wasn’t fully attached to his bones and muscles in the first place.

“We should.” Brett runs his fingers over his face, leaving blood on his left cheek and part of his nose, “By the way, if Liam convinces my sister to do something stupid ever again, I’m going to kill him.” Of course, it doesn’t have anything to do with the shifter. At least, not really. But if that thing hadn’t been all about pride but something else, they could have made it mad by disrespecting his communication invention.

Theo huffs.

“Not if I get to him first.”  


End file.
